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I think I need a therapist…

May 30, 2010

The fact that I can admit that piece of information probably means I’m normal and completely okay, but I had the biggest freak-out of my young adult life today.  It was such a massive blow-out, blaming it on raging hormones just doesn’t give this blow-out even an ounce of justice.  This would best be compared to my own personal BP oil spill.

My boyfriend had not one, but two bachelor parties this weekend. My hatred for bachelor parties aside, he really hasn’t had any time to hang out with his friends whatsoever so I understand his need.  But, I haven’t seen him literally in two weeks! And that’s not his fault. He’s just been completely overwhelmed with work and hasn’t given me the time that I often demand because I’m so darn needy.  (Which isn’t the therapist part, I’m independent enough.)

Ready to explode

It started when I realized I didn’t have as many friends as he did and I was a little jealous that I don’t have people inviting me places. (I know really not that a big of a deal right?)  And even if I did, I often give up those invitations to spend time with my significant other, especially when I haven’t seen said significant other in forever. This small token of gratitude given to my lover often comes at the expense of my friends, and they–frankly–have had enough of it.  My friends will stop calling me if I’m always telling them I can’t hang out with them.  And my boyfriend, of course, isn’t going to leave me if I ditch him once or twice to hang out with my girlfriends. In fact, I think most men would agree it’s a desirable quality for women to have their own friends and spend private time away from the house. But in my sick mind, I’d agree that all my time should be devoted to the one I love, even if said significant other doesn’t agree.  That being the case, it started a catalyst of anger for the rest of the weekend.

The next catalyst would have to be that my boyfriend is constantly changing plans.  Let me say that’s not necessarily a bad quality. Often, spontaneity is something I’d find as a sexy quality in a man, but in this particular case, I completely let it get the best of me.  This quality made the fact that I haven’t seen my boyfriend in over two weeks completely unbearable, and when he told me he might be home later, or even not at all, I freaked out. I immediately decided I’d leave the apartment and not tell him where I’m going and not call him, and leave him hanging for the rest of the Memorial Day weekend.  (Crazy right?) We got into a large argument, and it wasn’t that I was trying to find something to be angry about, I actually felt as though someone had lit all my cells on fire, and I could feel the heat of anger sweltering inside my body. I was legitimately angry that I may/may not see my boyfriend until tomorrow morning.

I was not being reasonable. I know I wasn’t being reasonable and I get that it was completely unacceptable. I sat on the couch, cracked open a beer and really started to think about what had just happened. What happened to the cool, loving, and genuinely excited Brittani that I am so very sure is the reason said boyfriend starting dating me in the first place. I shouldn’t be angry at him because I can’t keep my own life in order. Maybe I should start ditching the boyfriend to hang out with my friends, I’d probably have more of them that way.

Truthfully, after all is said and done, I realize this is completely my fault, and I really shouldn’t have blown up like I did. I should have calmly explained that I am a needy little brat and 6 hours of his time after 2 weeks of solidarity just isn’t enough.  I need to understand that when it comes to relationships, I’m more high maintenance than most. That’s not a good thing. But as long I recognize it, I can learn to accept and then deal with the situation so that this doesn’t happen.  Guys don’t want to date crazy, psycho women who can’t keep a control on their emotions.  So I’m angry that he’s cooler than I am, big deal.  High school is over and the popularity contest is over. I never liked those things anyway.

I guess that’s the part that confuses me the most. How and why did this situation make me that angry? How on Earth did I get so angry that I had a 45 minute conversation with him yelling and screaming while he’s saying, “sorry” on the other end on repeat.  This just isn’t how it supposed to be.  Am I normal? Am I the only girl who get’s this ridiculously angry over the fact he had no idea I’d scoured and cleaned and did all his laundry?  I guess all I wanted was a little appreciation.  I mean, when someone gets that busy, something else is bound to take a back seat, and in this case, it was me. I took the back seat to all his busyness, and I guess once you’ve been spoiled by your fairy tale, not having the fairy tale can be quite a shock.  I just want to be back in the front seat. We’re supposed to be a pair. The moral of the story is I definitely have reason to feel different, and maybe a little disappointed, but not angry; and definitely not blow-up out of control angry. I really should consider that yoga I’ve been talking about.

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